


Together

by TheDarkSideofEnergon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Nonverbal Communication, Sort Of, soft, they figure it out, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 14:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSideofEnergon/pseuds/TheDarkSideofEnergon
Summary: There was very little to be content with on a tiny shuttle with washracks and a berth only built for one mech. Whenever it left a planet’s atmosphere, it rattled like it was about to collapse around its passengers, and when it landed it sounded like it would rather never leave. The piping creaked, the berth was just this side of uncomfortable, and it had unidentifiable grime in nearly every corner.But, right now, with Drift lying half on top of him, still in recharge even as Ratchet drew meaningless glyphs on his back, Ratchet couldn’t quite find it in him to complain.Just a short, basically fluffy Ratchet/Drift thing.





	Together

There was very little to be content with on a tiny shuttle with washracks and a berth only built for one mech. Whenever it left a planet’s atmosphere, it rattled like it was about to collapse around its passengers, and when it landed it sounded like it would rather never leave. The piping creaked, the berth was just this side of uncomfortable, and it had unidentifiable grime in nearly every corner.

But, right now, with Drift lying half on top of him, still in recharge even as Ratchet drew meaningless glyphs on his back, Ratchet couldn’t quite find it in him to complain. Drift’s swords were unclipped and leaning against the wall, and his engine hummed into Ratchet’s glass front like a mecha-cat’s purr. Keeping his EM field locked, Ratchet kept up the tracings as he laid back, one arm behind his head, optics half-closing as his hand idly started tracing the glyphs for  _ I love you _ onto Drift’s plating.

That was, after all, why he was out here, even if he wasn’t quite ready to say it to Drift’s face just yet. The image of the tiny Drift figure in his subspace came to him. The real thing was much more preferred, even if the real one didn’t want him to trace the curve of those hips, whisper I love you into his audial, show him with his very spark what each one of Drift’s movements did to him.

Even with none of that, Ratchet wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Drift’s optics fluttered open. “Ratch?” He mumbled, voice thick with recharge as he lifted his helm slightly, his EM field flaring out softly, filled with the static of recharge. 

Ratchet’s hand stilled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He responded, hand coming up to Drift’s finials, tracing those instead, feeling mildly guilty for taking advantage of Drift’s half-unconscious state.

“Mmm.” Drift hummed before dropping his helm again, EM field buckling back down. “You can keep doing that.”

“Rubbing your finials?”

“Back.” Drift’s voice was already softening, engine dropping back into recharge levels. “Felt nice.”

Ratchet’s spark spun in its casing. “Go back to recharge, Drift.” Ratchet smiled softly, as Drift did just that. 

Drift would never admit it, but Ratchet knew that the encounter with the stone warriors had almost taken more out of him than he had to give. Letting Drift recharge now, freshly repaired and repainted, was the least invasive thing Ratchet could imagine. They’d been on course back to the Lost Light for a deca-cycles now, and still had about eight to go at top speed. They’d made one pit-stop for rations and the aforementioned repairs a meta-cycle in, but other than that, they would be out here for quite awhile yet. Drift was looking a little better each orn, but it was still slow going. Ratchet didn’t mind. They’d agreed to share the berth rather than be awkward about who got to recharge where, since they were both reasonable, adult mechs, after all.

Ratchet wasn’t actually sure that recharging in the captain’s chair wouldn’t have been less uncomfortable than having Drift draped across him every night. But still, complaining was the furthest thing from his processor.

At some point, he dropped back into recharge himself, and the two remained as they were for several more joors.

* * *

Drift was the first one to online this time, and he was slow, cautious in his movements as he propped his helm up on one arm carefully laid across Ratchet’s chest. He gazed down into the other mech’s face with a little smile on his face. Ratchet’s hand was still on his back, the other still behind his head. Drift could happily offline here, caught in Ratchet’s embrace, loose as it was.

He’d truly never thought that Ratchet, of all mechs, would come after him. It had seemed that Ratchet couldn’t wait until Drift was gone from his vicinity, every single time he talked to him. The only responses he could get out of the grumpy medic were irate rants on the non-existence of Primus, or the rare bit of snark aimed, generally, at Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, or some other member of the crew who had done something especially stupid that day.

Then, Ratchet had helped him through the crowd. Come halfway across the galaxy to find him. Asked him to come back as a _ friend _ .

Drift felt a pang in his spark at that last one, though he kept his EM field in tight. Oh, how he wished Ratchet had said something else. Like _ lover _ , for instance. He knew that was far too unrealistic, a little fantasy he had hidden deep in his spark for… well, since Rodion. Admittedly, these fantasies also usually ended with Ratchet sweeping him into a deep passionate kiss. Now  _ that _ was an unrealistic expectation. Even if Ratchet was feeling friendly, even if Drift had half-onlined to Ratchet tracing comforting glyphs into his back, there was no way he’d do  _ that _ . Some dreams were just that -- dreams. Still, Drift let his free hand wander down to Ratchet’s face, softly tracing the deep lines that only relaxed in recharge, making Ratchet look closer to his actual age, barely older than Drift himself. Drift vented as he tilted his helm, imagining what it would be like to kiss away every one of those lines, to take some of the burden away from Ratchet so that he could really live again.

Then Ratchet’s optics opened, immediately fixing on Drift’s, and Drift didn’t have time to pull his hand away. Ratchet’s field was still pulled in tight, and Drift didn’t dare unlock his. 

“Drift?” Ratchet’s voice was quiet, slightly confused.

“Sorry.” Drift whispered, starting to pull his hand away.

Ratchet reached out with the hand that had been on Drift’s back, catching it.

The two mechs stared at each other as Ratchet’s EM field pushed out, just a little, probing at Drift’s. It was quiet, soft, also a little confused, but leaked a tiny bit of  _ hope _ .

Drift, trying to not read anything into the situation, cautiously let his open just a little, carefully keeping it as just  _ happy/grateful _ .

“Oh.” Ratchet dropped the hand, pushed himself to a sitting position, starting to stand up.

It was Ratchet’s sudden wave of  _ disappointment _ , of letting his hand go, that broke Drift’s control. 

Some dreams were meant to be revised. Maybe he just needed to reach out and make them come true.

Surging forward, Drift pressed his lips to Ratchet’s, optics screwed shut.

Ratchet froze.

Then everything in both of their fields shattered.

_ Desire. Want. Love. _

Ratchet’s lips softened, his hands coming up to Drift’s waist and the back of his helm, never breaking the kiss as he sat up and swept Drift down into an open-mouthed kiss, Drift half-lying, half-sitting across Ratchet’s lap, his arms moving up to around Ratchet’s neck.

Yeah. This had to be a dream.

Even if the berth was a little small, even if one couldn’t practice sword forms quite as accurately as one should, even if incense might actually set off the interior smoke alarms, and even if it fell apart around them tomorrow…

Drift really couldn’t find it in himself to complain.


End file.
